


Danse Macabre

by BleFotia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Death!Harry, F/M, One Shot, Past Character Death, Past Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, Past Relationship(s), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26198704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleFotia/pseuds/BleFotia
Summary: In a world where Voldemort has won, where Harry has died, Hermione meets Death, cloaked in a disguise made of the face of her greatest love. Mentioned Character Death, past Harry/Hermione, HarmonyOneshot
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	Danse Macabre

**This work is based off of a ballad I learned about from a Criminal Minds episode. So, I own none of the following; Criminal Minds, Death and the Lady, or Harry Potter.**

**Please, enjoy**

**_Memento Mori - Remember You Must Die_ **

Hermione thought it was strange that Death would take the form of a young man, one she had lost long before the world had ended. And yet, there he stood, green eyes gazing at her from under a cloak so similar to that of a dementor, a scythe slung across his back, as ethereally beautiful as he had been as the moment he had been taken from her. 

“Fair Lady.” His voice was untouched, the same as it had been in those final moments, eerily calm and even.

“Throw those costly robes aside, no longer may you glory in your pride; Take leave of all your carnal vain delight, I’ve come to summon you away tonight.” She felt a wetness dripping down her face, slowly. Tears, she knew.

“What bold attempt is this? Pray let me know from whence you came, and whither I must go. Shall I, who am a Lady, stoop or bow to such a pale faced visage? Who art thou?” In her heart, she knew the truth of him. The pale faced specter was not the love she had lost at the end of the Dark Lord’s wand. No, Death had cloaked himself in her memories to make her passing easy, she could tell.

“Do you not know me?” Her heart clenched, aching to tell him, how she had known and loved him.

“I shall tell you then: I am he that conquers all the sons of man, No pitch of honor is from my dart is free, My name is Death! Have you not heard of me?” She dropped to her knees, staring up at the cruel specter wearing an illusion of happiness. 

“Yes, I have heard of thee, time after time.” She supposed she had almost met him time after time, watching those she had fought to protect give themselves up to protect her, watching him take them away.

“But, being in the glory of my prime, I did not think you would come so soon; Why must my morning sun go down at noon?” She still had to fight, to try to win. The killer of her greatest love still controlled her home, and how could she leave that unfinished?

“Talk not of noon! You may as well be mute; There is no time for vain dispute, your riches, gold and garments, jewels bright, your house, and land, must on new owners light.” That comment confused her. She was hidden in a decaying apartment building, surrounded by naught but mold and trash, fighting to survive. She did have one last ploy, however. She pulled from her bag the bags that had been left for her, a final attempt to protect her by the first one to step in front of Voldemort’s wand for her.

“My heart is cold, and it trembles at such news! Here’s bags of gold, if you will excuse me,” She had to keep the fight alive. “And seize on those; and finish thou their strife, who wretched are, and weary of their life.” Perhaps it would not work, but with a being dressed in the skin of her oldest friend, maybe should would buy some time. 

“Are there not many bound in prison strong, in bitter grief? And souls that languish long, Who could but find the grave a place of rest from all their grief; by which they are oppressed. Besides there’s many with a hoary head and palsied joints; from who all joy is fled. Release thou them whose sorrows are so great, and spare my life until a later date.” Perhaps this Death would be merciful, and save those who could not escape like she had, and let her live to fight another day. His light smile at that caused butterflies in her stomach and a terror in her head.

“Though thy vain heart to riches is inclined yet thou must die and leave them all behind. I come to none before their warrant’s sealed, and, when it is, they must submit and yield.” He floated upwards slowly, coming to hover over her so she was forced to crane her neck to see that pale face.

“Though some by age be full of grief and pain, till their appointed time they must remain; I take no bribe, believe me, this is true. Prepare yourself to go; I’ve come for you.” For a moment, she almost forgot that this wasn’t the Harry she loved, and as he said that he had come for her, she almost grabbed that still outstretched hand, so happy to have him return. But she still remembered that green light impacting him, watching his empty eyes as he fell. She swallowed, trying to think of a way to stall even further.

“But if, oh! If you could for me obtain a freedom, and a longer life to reign, fain would I stay, if thou my life wouldst spare. I have a daughter, beautiful and fair. I wish to see her wed, whom I adore; grant me but this, and I will ask no more?” She had no daughter, of course, but she could picture a beautiful little girl in her head, with emerald eyes and curly brown hair, and the nose of her father, with her mother’s slightly oversized front teeth, and she felt her tears return. The specter laughed.

“This is a slender frivolous excuse! I have you fast! I will not let you loose! Leave her to Providence, for you must go along with me, whether you will or no!” The spirit swept to the wide, broken, windows, facing away from her for the first time. He spun outlined in the red fire of the setting sun, green eyes aglow.

“If Death commands the King to leave his crown He at my feet must lay his sceptre down; Then, if to Kings I do not favour give but cut them off, can you expect to live beyond the limits of your time and space? No! I must send you to another place.” Her thoughts flew, hoping for one last solution to work. And so, she yelled.

“Ye learned doctors, now exert your skill, and let not Death on me obtain his will! Prepare your cordials, let me comfort find, My gold shall fly like chaff before the wind.” He swept across the space separating them, and grasped her hand. She started at the warmth, the clarity of his hand on hers.

“Forbear to call! That skill will never do; They are but mortals here as well as you. I give the fatal wand, my dart is sure, and far beyond the doctors’ skill to cure. Flow freely you can let your riches fly to purchase life, rather than yield and die! But, while you flourished here with all your store, you would not give one penny to the poor. Though in God’s name they sue to you did make you would not spare one penny for His sake. My Lord beheld wherein you did amiss, and calls you hence, to give account of this!” Her tears flowed faster, holding tightly to the familiar hand, trying to capture it’s warmth one last time.The specter’s other hand settled itself on her shoulder.

“O heavy news! Must I no longer stay? How shall I stand at the great judgement day! None knows what I do undergo.” The hand left her shoulder, migrating to her chin, pulling her face up to see him again.

“The word games are over, Hermione.” She flinched, hearing his voice say her name again after all this time.

“You’re a cruel specter for taking on his face.” A small, sad, smile slid onto his face.

“Who says I took on his face?”

“Don’t fill me with false hope, demon.” She tried to turn away, but he held her firm.

“You’ve done so good, Hermione. You fought for so long, even after I was gone. I would’ve have made it this far if our positions had been reversed.” Her light tears flowed faster, turning into light sobs.

“You can let go, love.” She startled again, hearing that phrase.

“He never called me that. We weren’t together, you stupid ghost.”

“I know.” He gently pulled her to her feet. “And it’s my biggest regret.” Her shoulders began to shake with the strength of her sobs.

“Hermione, love, how I wish I could’ve told you before everything went to hell. But, I’m lucky enough to tell you now.” She looked into his eyes one again, before drawing him in in the tightest hug her frail, shaking, body could give. 

“Come with me, darling. Your role in the fight is over. You’ve done so, so, so wonderful, dearest. Now, you can rest.” He drew back from her, and held out his hand. 

“Does it hurt?” Her voice sounded timid, even to her, like a young child looking for a parent’s reassurance in the dark of night.

“It’s like falling asleep.” He echoed a world that never existed to them, just in that moment. She took his outstretched hand, and felt lighter than she had in years.

Hermione Granger’s dead body would be found four days later by the Dark Lord’s forces, the last of a long gone resistance, with a smile that still shone like a dying sun.


End file.
